Two thousand years ago, something marked the world, creating what would later be known as Year Zero. Before that year, only a single continent rose beneath the skies: Calemor. An ancient land, where the wind whispered peace and the rivers flowed in harmony. In that unified land, two species — forgotten by many, feared by others — maintained the fragile balance between the forces that governed the world.
But even the tides of peace cannot resist the call of the unknown. No one knows for certain how it began. Some whisper it was out of greed. Others say it was all driven by the pursuit of a power beyond immortal comprehension. What everyone remembers — or pretends to forget — is that it was then the world changed.

 For one thousand nine hundred and sixty-three years, the flames of war consumed Calemor. An ancestral war, a nameless conflict that would become known only as The Elder War. A war that nearly wiped the very continent and all that breathed upon it from existence.
Then, in the year 1964 (after the beginning of The Elder War), something... happened. An event shrouded in silence and fear. A light in the south. A soundless scream. A wave of destruction that swept across entire lands, extinguishing everything in its path — men, mountains, oceans.

And when the echo of horror ceased, a wall of crystal and fire rose from the abyss. Impossible to climb, to cross, to break. Dividing Calemor in two, as if the planet itself wished to forget its own existence.
The war ended. But peace... never truly came.
Fearing that the cycle would begin again, the survivors fragmented the continent. Where once stood two great Kingdoms, multiple smaller domains emerged. Each species, each people, drew their borders, raised their flags, and chose their rulers.
Centuries passed. The scars of war fell asleep beneath the dust of millennia, becoming legends told under moonlight, whispered by elders to children who no longer knew how to fear. For centuries, the wall continued to burn and glisten, day and night reminding all who saw it on the horizon that the legends were real.
But there are those who remember.
Those who feel the ancient vibration in the earth.
Those who swear that the primordial hatred which began the massacre was never sealed. That if one day — by the will of the gods or the error of men — the wall were to fall... nothing would remain but ashes.